Chapter 2Marry Now, Not Later

By the time I got home, there wasn't a single call or text from Jeff.

He probably hadn't even noticed I was gone. Or if he had, he couldn't be bothered.

Jeff and I had been together for seven years.

I was twenty-eight when I met him. He was eighteen, kneeling on the cold floor of a hospital, begging the doctors to save his dying father. The astronomical medical bills had crushed the boy who had just become a man. I was walking by, and he grabbed the hem of my coat.

"Ma'am, please, help me," he’d begged, his eyes full of desperation. "If you can lend me the money for my father's surgery, I'll do anything for you. I'll be your slave."

Maybe it was his beautiful, desperate face. On a whim, I paid the thirty thousand dollars for his father's medical fees.

And just like that, he became my younger boyfriend.

When we first started dating, he would hold me tight and whisper, "Celeste, I love you so much. I wish I could marry you right now, but I'm not even legal yet."

When he turned twenty-two, he said, "I haven't graduated yet, and I don't have a job lined up. Wait until I'm twenty-five and my career is stable. I swear I'll marry you then."

Now he was twenty-five, with a stable career.

And he said, "This is a critical time for my career. Just give me five more years. When you turn forty, I promise, I will marry you."

How many five years does a person get in a lifetime?

A storm broke outside, the rain coming down so hard it blurred the world into a grey watercolor.

My phone rang. It was Jeff.

"Hey, where are you? It's pouring out here. Can you come pick me up?"

In our seven years together, it often felt like our roles were reversed. I shouldered all the responsibilities typically expected of a man, while he lived comfortably as my pampered partner.

I braved the storm and drove to the hotel.

When Jeff saw my car, he waved for me to get out.

"I'll drive," he said. "I have to drop Amanda off first, and you don't know the way to her place."

He slid into the driver's seat. Before I could even get in, Amanda had slipped into the passenger seat beside him.

"Celeste," Jeff said, offering a weak smile, "how about I take Amanda home and then come back for you?"

He didn't wait for an answer. He hit the gas, and the car sped away, leaving me standing alone in the hotel driveway, stunned into silence.

An hour passed. Then another. No sign of Jeff.

I finally broke down and called him. "How much longer until you come back for me?"

"Amanda's stomach is hurting really bad, so I took her to the hospital," he said, his voice rushed. "She's on an IV drip right now, and I can't leave her. Just grab a cab and go home."

"How am I supposed to find a cab in this downpour?"

"Then just buy an umbrella from a convenience store and walk. It's not that far. Look, I have to go, Amanda's in pain again."

He hung up.

I stood there, watching the relentless rain, and felt a wave of bitter laughter bubble up inside me. It was at least an hour's walk home, even on a clear day.

By the time I stumbled through my front door, I was soaked to the bone.

I rushed into a hot shower, but it was too late. A fever was already setting in.

I called Jeff. "I'm running a fever. Can you pick up some fever reducers on your way back?"

He just grunted an "uh-huh" and hung up.

I collapsed into bed, drifting in and out of a hazy sleep. When I finally forced my eyes open, the clock read 3:00 AM.

Jeff still wasn't home.

I tried his phone. It went straight to voicemail.